Writing Poems Amid Artificial Sounds of Trains and Falling Snow While Pipes Burst and Birthday Boys Skated

  

The train traveled far today so the whistle sounds faint
tired, perhaps, of the snow-muffled shrill of un-restraint.
 
A cool stove lay undisturbed, cool iron clean, all the day
while the ground leaked, forming my father’s bed a lake.
 
Two daughters slept and awoke to buy birthday boy gifts,
then flew home the helicopter, remote, controlled, adrift.
 
A husband fished for answers in a plumber’s busy way
only for rejection’s sake he pleaded dearly for his case.
 
For tomorrow can right itself in rhythmic steel drumming
and pulse below a calm repose in boredom’s humming.
 
For neither burst of pipe nor creativity’s pace may shatter
the week end’s closing call to the summer’s opening gala.
 
The hours longer and shorter still when poetry awakes
in bed the daylight long with trains, pipes, snow, skates.
 
An inspired screen tortured hard frozen bits slow falling
while thunderous trains traveled ever on, never stalling.
 
Words dry up, writing sours, turned to poetical blather
time to gather up my wits and return to other matters.

(and so ended my poetry half marathon)

 

Snuckle Silly

This poem marks the half way mark of the poetry half marathon and the deteriorating focus and skills become more evident. That day started late with a late awakening and continued to be challenging around the house where I camped for this event. 

The prompt instructed the participants to write from another’s perspective. I started out that way–from a toddler’s perspective–and quickly departed on my own journey as was the case with most of the poems I tried to follow along with the others.

  

Swooshing, hum, hum, swishing um, um
inside an elephant’s trunk swinging away.
Parrhump a dump twiddle all the de-dum,
singing the song nasal as a horsy’s neigh.
 
“Tickle my feet again” begs twiggly titters.
Pebbly teeth swallow eyes disappeared,
blinked inside with butterfly lashes’ flitters.
“Snuckle me silly,” her fat-thumbed cheer.
 
Baby cry tears weeping joyfully in sneezes
shuffle eager ears along clear paths drawn.
With fatty lamb’s feet she snuggles breezes
plumped up in words to dimpled knee songs.
 
Too soon, too little, thinned spiny legs grow
lean against time stretched long and brittle
bones bounce less break slick sidling slope
downed in the snow howling no longer little.
 
Trigger smiles and crackled cries muffled
the early risers’ dawn in spires sunk below
for cattle cars passing by in bovine shuffle
milking calves paused in stations unknown.
 
Beneath the stretch of time’s skin lies heat
and the promise of the amnesiac release.
In squiggle patches laughs a memory treat
relished in paunchy belly sweet sits peace.

 
photo credit: http://3.bp.blogspot.com/toes